Jekajo Jekajo

I am still in an anniversary mode and so my brain is still resting. The weekend is here already, weddings and parties of all sorts loading. My advice to anyone who has been invited to an occasion is this; please dress the part so that you will be treated accordingly. On this note, I'll share a story I shared on my Facebook page sometime ago. For those who have read it, please bear with me. I have new friends who should read the story too. lol

I got married in 2001 but relocated to Lagos fully in 2003 after attending law school in Abuja. Before then I'd known only 3 Yoruba people all my life so no clue as to Yoruba behavioural especially the party side. Gratefully, I now have a lot as friends.

A while ago, I got invited to a 70th birthday party and was told it was a “Sunny Ade” party. I mean I knew who he was but could relate better to Shina Peters. ....Dance Dance Dance and forget your sorrows, jekajo jekajo ijoya Shina... (Hope the lyrics are right?)

I was proactive enough to ask another friend (who is Yoruba by the way), the dress code as I did not want to be taken unawares. I know when to appear in my rich native Igbo George attire, my friend said she was going to be simple, no biggie since it wasn't a wedding, and she would just put on a simple Ankara dress. I said okay and made a new Ankara dress so we could be simple together. Abi? It was my first Yoruba party.

We got there separately but at the same time, oh boy! the vehicles I saw as I arrived, I started to question my looks. But I was also chauffer driven so no problem. The next shocker was what the people I saw outside wore, laces and gele. Well, I thought to myself it must be the celebrant's immediate family or there was a wedding happening nearby. At this time I was losing confidence. When I got to the entrance and looked into the venue, the different colours and shades of laces and geles and ipeles I saw eh! It took the confidence I'd built from nursery school plus the God given one to not have turned back.

My friend and I walked with the little grace we could summon to a table with some vacant seats. Everyone on that table was dressed to the nines and raised their noses high when they looked our way. Chai! I quickly identified with the nannies who wore “simple Ankara dresses” like my friend and I. Our host? She didn't even come near us. hahaha. She looked as gorgeous as ever so no way were we going to “fall her hand”. From a distance, she did sign languages asking if we were okay, had eaten and all.

Souvenirs were flying left, right and centre and our host maintained a safe distance when she gave us souvenirs - toilet brushes.lol. If not for my friend I would have waited till the last person left before leaving my seat. As for KSA I didn't see him oh. I saw his bus and his dancers and when I asked they said the party hadn't started at almost 6pm! The king comes out like a big masquerade and the party gets started. I picked up the little dignity I had left and walked out repeating to myself "never again Amaka, better to over-dress than under-dress"

The next work day, Dami my dear friend and I laughed and laughed when we remembered the events of the previous weekend.

When I posted this story on my Facebook page, Lande, our friend who invited us to the party read the post and heard the story for the first time.lol. She promised to make up by inviting us to another party, hmm; I have told her to give me a month’s notice if it is a “King Sunny Ade Yoruba Party” for once bitten, twice shy.